Hogwarts' Castaways
by Finn'sFolly
Summary: A pleasant school trip to the tropics turns disastrous for Snape, Neville, and the Trio when their boat gets caught in a violent storm. Rated T due to suggestive situations and mild violence.
1. Chapter 1

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A little passenger boat carrying about fifty people pushed its way through the rolling waves. A few Muggle children were hanging over the sides emptying their stomachs into the crystal-blue tropical water. Other children were pointing at the sick ones and laughing.

There were a few little round tables on the deck. Around one sat Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Harry. Neville sat between Hermione and Ron and directly across from Harry. His eyes were closed, and his head leaned heavily on his hands. He moaned with the passing of every bumpy wave. Hermione patted his back.

"It's only one more day, Neville. Then we'll be on dry land."

"Don't pat me! I'll puke!"

Neville and Hermione had earned the chance to visit the tropics and collect rare plant specimens. Both had been given the option to bring a friend. Hermione brought Ron, who had asked Neville if Harry could come. Neville obliged. Ron was presently bemoaning their terrible luck.

"I can't believe she left us with _him_!"

"Professor Sprout didn't get sick on purpose, Ron," said Hermione.

"Professor McGonagall's not sick."

"Her favorite grandniece just had a baby, you selfish git! Besides," added Hermione, "Professor Snape's the only other one qualified to take us."

"Dumbledore could've come," said Harry.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has better things to do than babysit us," replied Hermione.

"He's not the only one." Snape's low silky voice floated gently over the table. Neville instantly became paler. Ron didn't turn around to acknowledge him. Instead, he let his eyes settle on an unkempt man standing a few feet away, leaning against the boat's safety railing. This man, who Ron had heard another man refer to as "Flame," had messy reddish-brown hair and a long flame-red mustache. The man took a great interest in Hermione. She hadn't said anything, but Ron knew that she'd noticed Flame's interest in her. The night before, Ron had overheard this Flame character talking to two other men. One was a large, loud, stocky man called "Dutch." A smaller man, the shortest of the three, looked a bit younger and bit less clever than the other two. The third man's name was Tom.

In a very harsh American accent, Ron heard Flame say to the other two, "Cute little nymphet, ain't she?"

"Just the kind you like," replied Dutch.

Hermione had already gone to bed when this conversation took place, but Ron knew it was she that the men were referring to. Hermione was the only young female on board. The rest were little girls and old women.

Next to Ron sat Harry. His arms were folded across his chest, and he stared silently at Snape, who no longer looked like _The_ _Great Bat of the Dungeons_ without his black robes billowing about him. Now he just looked like a skinny, ugly, git in a faded blue t-shirt and grey cotton pants.

"Longbottom," said Snape as he handed a small cup to Neville.

Neville warily lifted his head off his hands and weakly said, "Yes, Sir?"

"Drink this, Longbottom, unless you'd prefer to spend another evening vomiting all over your cabin."

Neville took the cup, downed it, and quickly covered his mouth with his hands for fear of vomiting the liquid straight back up. Within seconds his queasy stomach settled, and he felt safe to uncover his mouth. He sat up and handed the cup back to Snape. "Thank you, Sir, I'm much better now."

"Glad to hear it, Longbottom. Now off to bed…_all of you_."

"It's barely six o'clock," protested Harry.

"Now!" snapped Snape.

All four rose without further protest and stomped below deck to their cabins. Snape waited for the mustachioed fellow to go below before going down himself. Snape stalked silently behind Mr. Flame, taking care not to be seen as the man looked repeatedly over his shoulder. A man that cautious is definitely up to no good. Snape had been observing him and his two companions since boarding the boat the day before. The men had wasted no time in pick-pocketing three elderly gentlemen and one old granny traveling with her four grandchildren. Snape never deluded himself into thinking that he was an innocent man, but he was certainly no thief. He picked the pockets of the three brigands and gave the money back to the original owners. The three thieves immediately suspected each other of betrayal and began to squabble, which had been Snape's true intention all along. While they were busy fighting amongst themselves, their unwelcome attentions focused less on Miss Granger.

Snape waited, out of sight, at a turn in the hallway that led to both his and the students' cabins. He let Flame have a few moments to get comfortable before he peeked around the corner. Flame tried to turn Granger's doorknob, but she'd locked it. Flame then removed a small leather pouch from his pocket. Snape recognized it as a lock-picking kit. He'd seen several varieties of them in his youth as his own Muggle father owned a number of sets.

"May I help you?" said Snape as he rounded the corner and approached Flame, who was now stooped over and focusing intently on Miss Granger's doorknob.

"No thanks, buddy," replied Flame pleasantly. "I just forgot my key."

Flame was a bold man and a convincing liar, but he had no idea that Snape was a wizard and a talented Legilimens. Flame lifted his eyes to Snape, looked him directly in the eyes and barely blinked. Snape saw exactly what he'd expected to see in the man's mind, and also some things that he hadn't. Apparently this Flame fellow had quite a strong sadistic streak where young ladies were concerned. His two companions were just garden-variety rapists.

"That is the young lady's cabin," said Snape silkily, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

Flame pocketed his lock-picking tools and stood upright to face Snape. He was taller by several inches and of a somewhat larger build. He was clearly attempting to be intimidating.

"And she's expecting me, so shove off!"

"Stay away from her," said Snape, his glittering black eyes staring unflinchingly into Flame's dull grey ones.

Flame grinned showing broken teeth, and slipped out a short, slightly curved, and thickly bladed knife from within his sleeve. He tapped it on his forearm as he spoke. "What's the matter, Greasy? Afraid I'll do a better job than you?"

"You have three seconds to get out of my sight." Snape had shrunk his wand and charmed it to stick to his belly. He took a step toward Flame while simultaneously reaching under his shirt. His hand wrapped tightly around his wand's hilt. Flame misinterpreted the movement, as any Muggle would, and stepped backwards with his hands in the air.

"Leave it to me to bring a knife to a gun fight. You win, Greasy." Flame blew Snape a kiss and laughed to himself as he backed away and disappeared down the hall. Snape turned and charmed Granger's doorknob before withdrawing into his own cabin.


	2. Chapter 2

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Ron, barefooted and wearing a loose t-shirt and boxer shorts, paced the floor of his cabin. It was too early to go to sleep, and he had nothing to keep him occupied. He pulled on a pair of pants and padded silently to Hermione's cabin, hoping she'd have a deck of cards or a game to play. He reached for Hermione's doorknob, but his hand slipped. He reached again. He tried both hands and still couldn't grip it.

"Weasley!" Ron spun around to see Snape standing barefoot in his nightshirt and his wand drawn. "I'll not tolerate that sort of activity!"

"What?" said Ron before Snape's meaning hit him. "Oh! No, no sir…I wasn't…we've never…we don't…"

"Stop stammering and go back to your own cabin!"

Ron stomped back to his room and slammed the door behind him. "Git," he mumbled.

"I heard that," said Snape.

Ron walked closer to his bed and said softly, "He must have bat ears."

"I heard that too, Weasley."

"What?" said Ron to himself. "How could he hear me from out there?"

"Shut up, Ron!" shouted Harry from next door.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and re-entered his own cabin. He climbed into bed and stuffed his wand under his pillow. "It shouldn't be too difficult to get a bit of sleep," thought Snape, "now that Longbottom isn't noisily retching all over the place."

Ron removed his pants and flung them onto the floor. He climbed onto his bed and lay there staring at the ceiling. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he rose and walked over to the wall that adjoined his and Harry's cabins. "Harry," whispered Ron.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm talking to you."

"Very funny, Harry. Did you bring any cards or anything?"

He heard Harry get out of bed, presumably to get closer to Ron's wall. "I've got nothing," Harry whispered back. "I'm bored out of my mind."

"Do you think, Neville…?" began Ron just as the boat lurched and sent him flying across his cabin.

Harry was pinned against the wall. Something hit his head and stunned him. He slumped to the floor and slid to the other side of the room as the boat lurched in the opposite direction. Hermione, who'd been tossed out of bed, started hollering for Ron.

Across the hall, Neville was sleeping peacefully trying to make up for a rough night of vomiting. He roused with a start just as the outside wall of his cabin screamed and cracked and a flood of water poured in. With a second lurch of the boat, Neville was sucked out into the tumultuous waves. Snape leapt out of bed, but didn't get the chance to escape the cabin as he too was sucked out to sea.

Hermione ran out of her cabin, her feet sloshing on the wet carpet. She'd intended to fetch Neville, but his cabin door was bulging out towards her, creaking painfully, and water poured out from underneath it. Instead, she reached for the door to Ron's cabin. He was just emerging, and the two dashed to get Harry. Floundering in a daze on the floor of his cabin, Harry was trying to grab anything that would help him rise. Ron rushed in and pulled him to his feet. The trio exited Harry's cabin and pushed through the rising water to the steps that led to the deck. Water rushed down the stairs in spurts as waves crashed over the deck and raced down the boats' innards.

"Neville," said Harry.

"We can't…" began Hermione, but she didn't need to continue. The doors of the cabins opposite theirs burst releasing torrents of water and debris. The noise of the crashing waves was so thunderous that it drowned out the screams of the other passengers. So much debris was being flung around that the trio couldn't discern bodies from clothing or furniture. There was no time to linger. Harry and Ron shoved Hermione up the staircase ahead of them. She was struggling against the water that beat down on her.

Hermione and Ron were both holding the railing; Harry held onto Ron so he could help to push Hermione. A great angry wave pounced on the deck and careened down the steps. A wall of water hit Harry, and he disappeared into the swirling water below. Ron managed to hold both himself and Hermione against the railing. With one great lurch, he shoved her onto the deck. They were immediately thrown overboard.

Ron lost sight of Hermione. He shouted for her, but couldn't hear himself over the roar of the furious ocean. He began swallowing sea water and struggled to keep his head above the black, frothy, rolling waves. His feet kicked madly, and his hands tore against the water that tried to push him down. His head bobbed at the surface for only a second. He coughed and spluttered and didn't have enough time to draw air. He was pulled down again and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

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Ron felt something pushing against him, something warm and gentle. He lifted his head as he roused and must've moved his legs. A sharp pain shot through his left knee. He opened his eyes and blinked at the bright sunlight. Warm water was gently rolling over the soft sand and washing over his legs before rolling back out to sea. He wore nothing but boxer shorts, which were wrapped around his knees and held in pace by a length of rope and some seaweed that was tangled around him. Little crabs toddled past him.

As his eyes cleared, he could see things floating in the water. Some of it was pushed onto the sand; other things were pushed farther out to sea. A black thing with what looked like wings rolled toward him as the waves came in again. He flinched as he thought it was a sea creature. It turned out to be a diver's knife still in its scabbard. He grabbed it and buckled it to his forearm. He used the knife to untangle himself. He pulled his shorts up and inspected his left knee. It was badly bruised. He cut a length of rope and tied two broken table legs on either side of his knee for support. This allowed him stand with little pain.

He became more aware of his body as he rose. His back was sunburnt and it hurt. He was battered and sore, but not badly injured. He rolled up the excess length of rope, thinking it might be useful, and slung it over his shoulder. He began to hobble up the beach, careful to avoid broken dinnerware and glass. He was hungry and thirsty, but loneliness was foremost on his mind. He hoped he could find more survivors. He hadn't walked far when he thought he saw something rising from the water. He put his hand over his eyes to block the sun and get a better look.

It was a man. He was trapped in the sand; only his upper body was visible. Ron ran to him to dig him out, but the torso fell over when Ron grabbed it. Ron backed away in horror. The sharks had bitten off the lower half of the man's body. Little crabs came skittering out of the torso, and Ron gagged at the sight of them. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't bury the remains, so he just left them there.

Ron moved some yards away from the torso. He stood and looked out at the horizon. He saw motion to his left, a few yards from the beach. He hobbled toward it. It was Hermione; she was waving to him. She was floating on large piece of wood that looked as if it has once been a part of the boat's hull. Its shape was rounded and uneven, and it was unstable in the water. Ron's heart began to flutter as his mind envisioned Hermione falling off of it and disappearing forever under the water. He entered the water intending to fetch her. Hermione began shouting and waving her hands wildly. Her voice was hoarse and Ron couldn't understand everything that she said, but he did clearly understand "no" and "shark."

He quickly vacated the water to the relative safety of the beach. He looked around the sand for anything useful and discovered a broken broom with the handle still intact. Ron unscrewed the broom handle and tied his rope to the bristled broom-head. He threw it out to Hermione, but it was too far for her to reach. His second throw landed on the edge of her wooden float and nearly overturned it. She caught the third toss.

The splashing had excited the shark that Hermione spoke of, and Ron saw its tailfin break the water's surface. It was very large. Ron had to talk to himself to stay calm. If he pulled too fast on the rope, Hermione would topple into the water. She was about two yards from shore when her float ran aground. She was too frightened to move. Ron ran out to her, ignoring both her protests and the searing pain in his knee. He was chest deep in water when he reached her. He ripped her off the float and headed for shore as quickly as he could. He tried not to look at the water for fear of seeing the shark. They made it to shore unharmed. They were hungry, sunburnt, and sore, but none of that mattered because they were no longer alone.

"That was very brave and very stupid of you, Ron."

"What did you think I was going to do, let you float away?"

"I nearly did, didn't I? When the sun came up, and I could see where I was, I'd planned to jump off and swim to shore. But then that huge shark showed up and wouldn't leave."

Ron put his arm around her. "It doesn't matter now. You're away from it."

"Oh, Ron, your leg!"

"It's just bruised. Did you see anyone else?"

"Yes, I saw a man floating on a tablet-top, but I don't know where he went. Have you seen anyone?"

"No, I think it's just us."

"Have you got your wand?" Ron shook his head. "I don't have mine either."

Ron reeled in the rope, rolled it up again, and slung it over his shoulder. He picked up the broom handle and gave it to Hermione.

"What's this for?"

"I'm going to make a spear out of it so we can catch some fish," answered Ron.

They walked as far along the beach as they could. They seemed to be in a large cove bordered by rocky cliffs. The beach was deep, and behind it were thorny low-growing shrubs. Behind the shrubs was a dense patch of trees. Hermione saw some birds settle on the rocks where they met the tree-line. The birds dipped their heads down and then held them up for a second. They repeated this motion a few times before flying off.

"I think there's water there, Ron. Those birds look like they're getting a drink. Look for a cup or a glass."

Ron found a large metal mug half buried in the sand. Hermione scrambled up the rocks with the mug in her hand. The rocks were sharp and cut her feet. The remaining birds flew away as she approached. There was a deep narrow pool in the rock face that collected rain water. There were numerous small shallow pools around it full of bird droppings and feathers. Hermione tasted the water in the larger pool, and it was fresh. She dipped the mug in and drank deeply. She filled it a second time for Ron. She went back to fill the mug a third time and handed it to Ron so she could climb down. He handed the mug of water back to her, but kept the broomstick to help take some weight off his knee.

"We'll have to figure a way for you to do that without getting your feet cut."

"They're not too bad, only scratches really."

"Scratches get infected, Hermione."

Of course, Hermione knew that, but she didn't want to give Ron anything more to worry about. They backtracked, hoping to find more survivors at the other end of the beach.

"Is that a man there?" said Hermione excitedly.

"He's dead. The sharks got him."

They passed the spot where Ron had woken up. They saw nothing but debris. There was a natural pier extending out into the water. Ron made a mental note of it as it would be a good place to fish.

"Do you hear that?" said Hermione.

Ron stopped and listened. "It's voices! I hear voices!" They quickened their steps.

Just a little farther up the beach, they came across two men shouting at a third man. He was floating on a table-top. The menacing shark was circling around him; its dorsal fin and tail fin clearly visible.

"Here," shouted Ron, "throw this to him." He was sorry he'd spoken. When the two men turned around, he recognized them as Flame's frightful companions. The man on the table-top was, no doubt, Flame himself. Dutch and Tom looked like they'd been in bed when the storm hit. Like Ron and Hermione, they had little clothing on. Dutch was wearing only a pair of cargo shorts, and Tom wore briefs and an undershirt. Flame was fully clothed except for his feet.

"Thanks, kid," answered Dutch. He threw the rope and broken broom-head out to flame and dragged him in to shore the same way Ron had done for Hermione. Flame stepped off the table-top onto the dry sand and winked at Hermione before embracing his companions.

"We should've stayed down the other end of the beach," whispered Ron.

"There's nothing we can do about it now. They likely would've found us anyway."

Dutch dropped Ron's rope and invited his companion to their little campsite. Tom and Dutch had managed to make a tent out of a recovered table linen. They ignored Ron and Hermione until they realized that Hermione was carrying a mug.

"What's that you've got there?" said Flame.

"We found some drinking water," replied Hermione.

All three men approached them. Ron gripped the broomstick more tightly. Hermione didn't wait for them to ask, she just handed the mug to Flame as he was the closest to her. They each took a drink and turned back to their campsite.

"Hey," said Ron. "Give us our mug back."

The men laughed as they passed the mug between themselves.

"Don't, Ron."

"But, Hermione, we need that."

"We'll find something else," whispered Hermione. "We're in no position to fight with them."

Hermione and Ron moved away from the men to set up their own camp. They stayed close enough to keep the men in sight, but far enough to have some privacy. They made a bed out of palm leaves, and a lean-to out of palm leaves and tree branches. It was pleasant to sit under the lean-to and get out of the burning sun. Ron sat and sharpened the end of the broom handle with his knife; he was careful to keep the shavings in a pile. He'd planned on tying the knife to end of it, but thought better of it. The knife was too precious a tool. If it fell off the spear, it would be lost forever. Hermione busied herself gathering rocks to build a fire-pit. She placed a few larger rocks in the center, and placed Ron's wood shavings around them; they and some dry palm leaves would help start a fire.

It took her some time to get the fire lit. She had difficulty getting a good spark from the rocks she had, but she eventually got the fire going. Ron went off to try and catch a fish. He stood in the surf as he was fearful to go to the pier and leave Hermione alone with those men. Hermione busied herself collecting green coconuts. Ron came back much sooner than expected with a small fish on the end of his spear.

"I got one, Hermione!"

She shushed him so the men didn't hear. The men had already taken their water. There was no reason to believe they wouldn't steal their food too. Ron looked over at them, but they were already eating. Dutch and Tom had already caught and cooked some fish. Flame was staring in Hermione's direction. Ron thought he was looking at Hermione again, but when she moved away from the fire, his eyes didn't follow her. It was the fire that held his attention. He was mesmerized by it.

Ron cut the fish open, dumped the guts in the sand, and opened its body to cook on the hot rocks. Hermione gagged as she scooped the guts out of the sand and threw them into the surf. Ron cut open a coconut with his knife while they waited for the fish to cook. He made a bit of a mess with the first coconut, but they got a nice drink and some tasty coconut meat out of it.

The sun was beginning to set. Hermione was fidgeting. "What's wrong?" said Ron.

"I have to pee."

"Well, go then."

"I can't just point like you can, Ron. I have to take some things off."

"Oh, right," said Ron. "There's a tall shrub over there. I'll go with you."

Ron stood in front of Hermione with his back to her while she prepared herself. The three men had a keen interest in her activities and tried to get a better look, but couldn't see anything because of Ron and the thick tall shrub Hermione was behind. "Perverts," whispered Ron.

Exhausted, Hermione and Ron settled down under their lean-to for the night. They didn't sleep well. They hadn't anticipated the amount of biting insects that would be in the palm leaves. They rose at first light, washed in the surf, and began scouring the beach for supplies. Hermione found twine that she used to tie up bundles of palm leaves, and soaked them in the surf to kill any lingering insects. Ron found a small wooden chest with a half-tea set in it. Some of the pieces were cracked, but they were all usable. They hid the chest under their lean-to. Hermione found a metal coffee pot and a piece of torn metal. Its edges were ragged, but it was otherwise flat.

They filled both the coffee pot and the tea pot with fresh water, and stoppered their spouts with wadded rags. Ron used rocks to bend the ragged edges on the piece of metal. It had to be handled carefully because of the sharp edges, but it made an excellent cooking surface. Ron dug a latrine with a table leg while Hermione collected firewood. They deliberately avoided talking about Harry, Neville, and Snape. Hermione tried her hand at fishing, while Ron built a privacy screen for the latrine. He framed it with tree branches and filled it with palm leaves and rags. The three men sat around their camp, amused by the sight of Ron and Hermione's labor.

Hermione's attempt at fishing ended in failure, but she did manage to snag a heavy table cloth. A piece of a dining table floated to shore and the linen was wrapped around the table's last remaining leg. The wet cloth was too heavy to carry, so she went to fetch Ron. Together they managed to spread it out on the sand so it could dry. They would later fold it in half and spread it on their bed of palm leaves. They could slip between the folds to sleep. Ron couldn't catch another fish, so they had to content themselves with coconuts. They went to bed at dusk and slept soundly until morning.


	4. Chapter 4

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They were starving when they awoke. Hermione was faring better than Ron, who was accustomed to eating several large meals a day. He'd already begun to lose weight. Ron cut open a pair of coconuts for breakfast before they went off to the pier to fish. He was in a particularly dour mood. "Do you think anyone will find us?"

"Dumbledore will find us. I'm sure of it."

Another body had made it to the shore, along with an intact wooden chair. The body of a man was lying against the natural pier, feet still in the water. It was Snape. Hermione and Ron stood in silence watching the water flow over Snape's feet. They were sure he was dead.

"We can't let the crabs eat him," said Ron. "It just wouldn't be right."

They slowly approached Snape's body. Neither one wanted to be the first to touch him. Hermione knelt down beside his head. "Maybe we should say a few words."

"Like what," said Ron, "here lies the _Greasy Git_? Or how about this, _The_ _Great Bat of the Dungeons_ shall flap no more?"

"Ronald! I know you're hungry, but this isn't the time for sarcasm." Hermione leaned over and smoothed Snape's tangled hair away from his face. His eyes fluttered giving Hermione a start.

"It's just a crab—"

"No, he moved." Hermione felt his neck for a pulse. "He's alive, Ron!"

Ron dropped his fishing spear. "I'll get his shoulders, you get his legs."

They carried Snape's unconscious form back to their campsite as fast as Ron's hobbled leg would allow. Snape's face, torso, and arms were very sunburnt; his legs were not. "He must've been clinging to that chair," said Hermione as she poured a cup of water for Snape. Ron sat behind him, holding his head up. Snape's eyes fluttered again, but he didn't wake. He choked and spat the water out. It took a few more tries, but Hermione finally managed to get a little water in him. "We'll try him again a bit later." Ron cut open another coconut. He and Hermione shared the water, and Hermione smeared the meat onto Snape's blistered sunburnt skin.

"You go on, Ron. I'll stay with him."

"I can't leave you. Those three are watching you like hawks."

"We can't leave Snape alone, and we can't live on just coconuts. I'll be fine."

Ron slipped his knife out of its scabbard and handed it to her. "Keep it with you." He hobbled back to his fishing spear, stopping frequently to look back at Hermione. She busied herself by tidying their bed and fussing about the unconscious Snape. Ron found it difficult to focus on fishing. All he could think about were those three perverts getting at Hermione. He had an accidental stroke of luck. He'd launched his spear at a small fish and missed it, but another, much larger, fish tried to shoot past and Ron nailed it. It was dead almost instantly. He ran back to Hermione with the fish still on his spear.

The three men were standing around her when Ron returned. They seemed to be interested in Snape. Dutch was drinking straight out of the coffee pot and spilling water all over the sand. Tom was stalking around their campsite. Flame stood next to Hermione and was engaged in a conversation with her. He'd chosen to be shirtless today.

"So how's your boyfriend?" said Flame.

"He's fine. He's fishing," replied Hermione curtly.

"I meant him," said Flame as he pointed to Snape. "I thought the other one was your brother." The other two men laughed. Dutch spluttered water everywhere. There was something in the sound of their forced laughter that made Hermione very nervous. "But I'm open-mined," continued Flame. "A girl can have two boyfriends if she wants, but I think old Greasy might need replacing."

"Get away from her!" shouted Ron.

"Hey there, Red," said Flame pleasantly. "We were just entertaining your sister while you were gone."

Tom rounded the campsite and Ron turned his attention to him, which was precisely what Tom had intended. Ron was distracted enough for Flame to grab the fishing spear out of his hand. Dutch stepped forward and knocked Ron off his feet. The men seemed to be performing a well-practiced routine. Hermione shouted Ron's name. Dutch turned to her. "Better teach your brother some manners; otherwise I might have to do it." He turned to Tom, pointed at Ron's fish, and said, "Breakfast." Tom smiled and took the spear from Flame. He carried it back to his campsite, removed the fish, and stuck the spear upright in the sand.

Dutch dropped the coffee pot in the sand and followed Tom. Flame winked at Hermione and said, "We'll talk later." He went back to his campsite and started a fire, then lay down in the sand to watch Tom cook.

Ron rose to his feet. "Did they touch you?"

"No." She watched him look over to the men, his face and ears flushed with rage. "Ron, don't!" But he ignored her and stomped over to them. Tom, absorbed in his cooking duties, ignored him. Dutch rose and stared at him, but said nothing. Flame rolled onto his back and smiled; he laughed heartily when Ron pulled his fishing spear out of the sand and hobbled back to Hermione.

Ron and Hermione chose to stay close to camp for the rest of the day. Ron refused to leave Hermione, and neither thought it a good idea to leave Snape alone. There was no choice but to content themselves with coconuts. It was silly and they knew it, but they both felt a little safer now that Snape was with them. They turned in early, and awoke just as dawn was breaking. They both felt a little sick from hunger. Eating coconuts was rapidly becoming a repugnant activity. Hermione poured a cup of coconut water for Snape. He roused when Ron tried to lift his head.

Snape flailed. "It's alright, sir. It's me, Ron Weasley." Snape settled. He looked around for a few moments, getting his bearings, before slowly and painfully sitting up. Hermione handed him the cup of coconut water, but Snape refused it.

"My bladder refuses to hold any more liquid, Miss Granger."

"We dug a latrine over there, sir," said Ron. He rose, helped Snape to his feet, and escorted him to it. Ron waited at a polite distance away from Snape while he relieved himself. Snape walked slowly and groggily back to camp with Ron at his side. He stopped suddenly and lurched forward. Ron caught him and half-carried him back to camp.

"Something's wrong!" hollered Ron in a panic.

"He's just hungry, Ron. He hasn't eaten in two days." Again Hermione proffered the cup of water. Snape's hands were shaking, so Hermione held the cup for him. He took a few sips before feeling strong enough to take the cup himself. Ron scraped out coconut meat onto a little biscuit plate from their half-tea set and handed it to Snape. He ate it quickly. "Don't eat too fast, sir," said Hermione, but he ignored her. Snape set the plate down and rested his head on his knees.

"All waked up, Greasy?" said Flame from a few feet away. He'd chosen to be naked today, and was presently urinating, in full view, onto the sand. He blew a kiss at Hermione when he finished.

Ron rose and dumped the remainder of the coffee pot's water onto the puddle of urine. "Ron, you shouldn't waste fresh water like that."

"I wasn't going to use that after Dutch drooled in it. Besides the pee attracts bugs, and we've all got enough bites on us as it is." Ron plunked down next to Snape, who pointed at Ron's knee. "Just a bad bruise, sir," explained Ron. "I think I can take the splints off tomorrow."

Snape's eyes flitted over to Flame, who was presently dancing around merrily, making the other two laugh. "He's like a wild dog," said Ron. "He pees everywhere." Weasley and Granger thought his behavior was offensive, but Snape recognized it for what it really was. Flame was marking his territory, and he clearly viewed Snape as his greatest threat.

"Wands?" croaked Snape. He cleared his throat and took another sip of water.

"No, sir," answered Hermione.

"How much food do we have?"

"Just a bunch of coconuts, sir," replied Ron.

"Ron's managed to spear some fish, but those men have started to steal from us."

Snape spied groups of crabs running around the beach. "What about the crabs?"

"We don't know how to kill them,' replied Hermione. "And I won't cook anything alive. It's barbaric."

Snape set down his plate and rose. "Start a fire, Granger. Weasley come with me." He picked up a rock from the fire-pit and strolled to the shoreline. He snatched the first crab he came across, turned it on its back, and bashed it with the rock. He gave the dead crab to Ron. "Which is the leader," whispered Snape.

"What?"

"Those men," said Snape.

"Oh," said Ron. "I thought you meant the crabs." Snape glared at him. "That big Dutch fellow controls Tom for sure, but I don't know about Flame. He's a bit of a nutter. You'll see what I mean tonight."

"Tonight?" repeated Snape. "You don't think this information is pertinent now?"

"Trust me, sir. It'll be much clearer if you see for yourself."

Snape was too tired and sore to argue. "Listen carefully, Weasley. Miss Granger is not to be left alone for any reason, and we two should never be out of each other's sight."

Ron felt a little indignant. "I've got five older brothers, sir, I can handle myself."

"Since your comprehension is clearly limited, Mr. Weasley, I shall be blunt. Miss Granger is the only female present. We are all that stands between her and a tortuous existence at the hands of three rapists. Those men are experienced criminals. They will attempt to separate and eliminate us individually. They are not patient men; they won't wait for me to regain my strength. Let us not help them attain their goals by behaving unreasonably."

Ron's vigor drained at Snape's words. He stood dumbfounded holding six dead crabs in his hands.

"Miss Granger has lit the fire." Snape walked back to the campsite with a weak-feeling Ron hobbling behind him.

The three men watched them, but didn't attempt to steal their crabs as Dutch claimed to be allergic to shellfish. Dutch sent Tom off to a much larger and longer natural pier that was close to their camp to fish for dinner. Snape appeared to be ignoring the men, but he watched them carefully with his peripheral vision. He showed Ron and Hermione how to prepare the crabs before cooking, and didn't let them rest after their meal. They walked the beach down to Ron's fishing pier. Snape walked the length of it and looked out into the water at seaweed floating a few yards away.

"Sir," said Hermione. "You should be resting."

"Why have you not collected any seaweed, Miss Granger?"

"It's too far out, sir, and what washes up on the beach is inedible."

"Can neither of you swim?"

"There are too many sharks, sir," said Ron.

"There are lots of bull sharks close to the shore. They've been known to attack people, and…well Ron and I thought it too risky to get into the water with them."

A small one, about three feet long, swam past the pier. Snape pointed at it. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

"There are much larger ones, sir," said Ron.

"And there's another," added Hermione. "I think it's a tiger shark. It's very large and striped. It followed me in to shore, and it keeps coming back."

"We see it every day at all different times."

Snape took Ron's spear and peered at the water. "Tell me if either of you see anything in the water." He leaned as far out as he could, trying to snag some seaweed.

"I've seen those bloody things jump, sir!" said Ron.

Snape leaned back. "How accurate is your wandless magic?"

Hermione looked at the ground, and Ron stammered. Snape exhaled angrily and handed the spear back to Ron. "Take this, Weasley. Your reach is longer than mine." Ron moved next to him while Snape focused on a patch of seaweed. It moved slowly toward them against the current. Ron snagged it, wrapped as much as he could around his spear, and pulled it back.

"Smell it, Weasley."

"It smells fishy."

"That is edible," said Snape. "If it smells rotten; it is rotten."

"I'm not sure I want to eat this. It's all slimy," said Ron with a grimace.

"Seaweed contains a great many nutrients, and we need to exploit all the food sources that we can," replied Snape. He put his hand to his head and began to sway a little. The exertion was too much for him, and he was beginning to feel weak and dizzy.

"You need to lie down, sir," said Hermione.

This time Snape took her advice. They went back to camp, and he lay down on the table linen. He gave a single instruction before falling asleep. "Put the seaweed in the coffee pot and boil it."

"Do you feel like cooking more crabs, Hermione?"

"I'll cook anything, Ron. I'm famished."

They wrapped the crabmeat in seaweed leaves and drank the greenish water the seaweed had been boiled in. They made sure to leave some broth for Snape. He slept until dusk. Hermione practically poured the broth down his throat when he awoke. Ron fetched more crabs, and they had a second helping of crabmeat and seaweed.

"He's starting," said Ron softly.

"Watch this, Professor," said Hermione.

Flame's evening ritual had begun. He'd gathered firewood, far too much of it, and built a large bonfire. He was now using dry palm leaves to light it. Dutch had a lighter that he kept in his pocket. He loaned it to Flame for this purpose only, and always demanded it be given back when it was no longer needed. Tom waited impatiently as his fish were ready to be cooked. Flame stood upright; mesmerized as the little flickering flames grew larger. Dutch snatched his lighter out of Flame's hand.

Tom knelt down and disappeared behind the growing wall of flames. Flame stooped and pushed a stick farther into the fire. Tom shot up screaming and patting his stomach. His undershirt had caught fire. Dutch threw him down, kicked sand at him, and told him to roll. Flame jumped around and clapped agitatedly, his high-pitched excited laughter echoing down the beach. Tom rose and began shouting and swearing at Flame. He chased Flame around the bonfire until Dutch told him to stop and finish cooking the fish.

"That was entertaining," said Ron.

"He obviously didn't get his name from his mustache."

"That would explain the scars on his hands," said Snape casually. He spoke more to himself than to the children, essentially thinking aloud. A plan would be needed, and he was trying to calculate the best course of action. It wouldn't be easy because not only was Flame an aggressive pervert, he was also an unpredictable lunatic. "I'll take the first shift."

"Pardon, sir?" said Hermione.

"Miss Granger you'll sleep between Mr. Weasley and myself. Weasley, I'll wake you in a few hours. If either of you need to rise for any reason, you are to wake the other two. Is that clear?"

Ron settled between the fold of linen. He pulled his knife from its scabbard and handed it to Snape. "You might need this, sir." He laid down and was snoring within ten minutes. Hermione settled next to him watching Snape. He was sitting cross-legged on her other side sipping coconut water. Thoughts of their current predicament turned over in her mind. How bizarrely amusing it was, she in her pink sleep shorts and matching tank top, Snape in his grey boxer shorts, and Ron in his navy blue plaid ones. She hoped she would live long enough to look back on this time and see the humor of it all without being reminded of their desperation. But then, they had less to worry about now that Professor Snape was there. He would, no doubt, be getting stronger in the following days and, somehow, that thought made she and Ron hopeful.


	5. Chapter 5

#

The next morning, Snape arose with a cough that worsened as the day wore on. Hermione grew bold with worry and nagged him. He gave in by lunchtime and tried to lie down, but the coughing got worse and he had to sit up. Hermione soaked several large piles of palm leaves in the surf. She shook as much water off as she could and piled them up behind him, covering them with an old rag Ron had found, so Snape could lie back. The palms were still wet, but he didn't care.

The three men were very interested in this turn of events, and began to talk softly amongst themselves. None of them, the psychotic Flame included, were brave enough to harass Hermione while Snape was conscious. They occasionally poked fun at Ron, but didn't attempt to accost him.

Dutch was a large burly man who'd participated in more than his fair share of fisticuffs. He wasn't one to back down easily, but he also wasn't stupid. He knew if Flame was wary of a skinny little man, there was a very good reason for it. As Snape had said, these men were experienced criminals, and it didn't take them long to devise a plan. Satisfied with the strategy they'd formulated, Flame sat cross-legged cleaning, kissing, and caressing his knife. Occasionally he would look over at Snape and laugh to himself, sometimes blowing Snape a kiss.

Snape, for his part, looked to be sleeping soundly. He lay facing the men's camp. His long black lashes camouflaged his eyes, which were slightly open. He knew the men had finished planning, and he surmised that their plan would unfold sometime that evening. Snape began to cough and sat up. Flame became very happy at the sound and kissed the blade of his knife. Ron handed Snape a plate of food, and he handed it back. "You eat it, Weasley. I'm not hungry."

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances. "Sir, you have to eat," said Hermione.

Hermione's perpetual nagging annoyed him. He started to tell her to leave him be when he was hit by another coughing fit. Hermione moved to sit between them and handed him a cup of broth. "For your cough, sir." His coughing fit over, Snape sat sipping his broth and scratching his thick black beard. Ron had apparently noticed this and began to mimic Snape's behavior. He sat, still chewing, and scratched at his patchy, soft-haired, ginger beard. Hermione looked back at Snape, who caught her looking at him.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

"I…um was just admiring your beard, sir."

"It itches," said Snape.

Her feeling of security was short-lived, and Hermione knew that Snape would soon need medical attention that she wouldn't be able to provide. A strong feeling of anxiety overwhelmed her. Hermione looked down at her plate and caught sight of her legs. She hadn't shaved in days, and her legs were covered in brown stubble. She looked at Snape's black-haired legs, then over at Ron's ginger-haired legs and burst into tears.

"What's the matter?" said Ron.

"I'm so hairy! I look like a boy!"

Ron opened his mouth to speak with the intention of comforting her, but was dumbstruck by what Snape had to say.

"Miss Granger, I assure you a lady's body hair is in no way unattractive. I'm more offended by my own devastating armpit odor than by anything regarding your person." Hermione laughed, and Snape looked to Ron, who just sat there looking back. Snape reached over and smacked him in the back of the head.

"You're beautiful, Hermione."

"Thank you…both of you." Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and laid her head against Ron's shoulder. Snape resumed scratching his beard.

Snape refused to eat dinner except for a little coconut meat, and he still insisted on taking the first watch. As darkness approached, the three men became oddly silent. They paced more than usual and appeared apprehensive. Hermione saw it, but said nothing. She didn't want to cause anyone any more worry. To her eyes, the men appeared like caged animals anxious to be let loose.

Flame's bonfire was still burning and cast flickering light over both campsites. Ron and Hermione were asleep. Snape leaned over his knees, and appeared to also be sleeping. He heard the three men approaching. Dutch softly whispered instructions to the dunderheaded Tom, who rounded the other side of their camp, presumably to grab Ron. At least Snape wouldn't have all three at once to deal with.

In one rapid motion, Dutch grabbed Snape and pulled him to his feet. Tom did the same with Ron. Hermione, roused by the sudden movement, woke with a start and began kicking Tom's shins. He stepped back out of her reach. She then scooted around and began to kick at Dutch's shins. Flame rushed forward at Snape with his precious knife in hand.

He didn't get to make contact. Snape expelled a burst of magical energy that sent Flame flying backwards. He landed on his head, fifteen feet away. Snape sunk Ron's knife into Dutch's thigh. Dutch cried out in pain, releasing Snape as he fell backwards. Tom dropped Ron and ran to Dutch's aid. Snape fell to the ground breathing heavily, which started another coughing fit. Ron and Hermione lifted him onto the linen. His coughs were getting thick and a rolling congested noise sounded from his chest. He had pneumonia. Hermione poured another cup of coconut water for Snape. Ron cleaned off the knife blade and put it back in its scabbard.

"It's alright now," said Snape after he caught his breath. "They'll be licking their wounds for a day or two. Then they'll try again."

Snape was the last to wake in the morning. Ron and Hermione tried very hard to be quiet so as not to rouse him. He was feverish. Hermione washed him down with fresh water. She and Ron had moved him. He was now between them, and hadn't argued about it. He refused to eat.

The three men were swimming. Tom had used the remains of his undershirt to wrap Dutch's wound.

"Idiot," mumbled Snape.

"What'd I do?" said Ron.

"Not you," said Hermione. "He means Dutch. The great twit thinks the salt water will heal his wound." Ron looked blankly at her. "Salt is good for cleaning wounds, but natural saltwater is loaded with bacteria. He'll likely end up with an infection."

"I can't believe them," said Ron. "They wash there, pee there, throw fish guts in there, now they're swimming. It's only a matter of time before a shark gets one of them."

Dutch emerged from the water with Tom's help. He limped to their camp and sat down on the palm leaves that Tom had collected for him. He never took the wet bandage off. Tom fussed over him for a bit then went off to fish. Flame joined Dutch. He rubbed his neck, which he'd injured when Snape threw him.

Tom must've been distracted because it took him much longer than usual to catch a fish, and Dutch reprimanded him for his tardiness. He groveled and apologized and fussed over Dutch, who showed not the slightest bit of gratitude. Flame had a headache and yelled at them both to shut up.

Hermione felt Snape's forehead. Ron knew Snape was really ill because he didn't say anything nasty to her. Ron unbuckled his knife, took up Snape's arm, and fastened his knife to it. "You might need that, sir. I've got the spear." Snape didn't answer.

Ron and Hermione spent the day hovering around their dying professor. They laid awake most of the night listening to his ragged breathing. He was still able to walk to the latrine, but needed Ron's help to get there and back.

Dutch didn't emerge from his tent in the morning. By late afternoon, he could be heard hollering and talking to himself. Tom ran back and forth fetching water. Flame sat outside the tent cleaning and sharpening his knife. Tom started pleading with Dutch. Moments later Dutch emerged from the tent, staggering and shouting gibberish. He ran to the water and began to swim. Tom ran after him, but the tiger shark reached him first. Its great tailfin splashed against the water's surface. The most awful blood-chilling screams Ron and Hermione ever heard streaked across the beach. Flame hummed to himself.

The surf turned red with Dutch's blood. Dutch stopped screaming and the shark disappeared. Tom emerged from the water covered in blood. He paced the shoreline for some time. He heard Snape coughing and ran toward him screaming madly. "You killed him! It's your fault!"

Snape blew a kiss at Tom and grinned. Tom rushed forward in a rage. Flame grabbed his arm and whispered something in his ear. Tom stopped and went back to his lonely vigil at the shoreline. Flame winked at Snape, and Snape winked back. That made Flame very angry. He gritted his teeth and kicked at the sand.

Night fell. The moon was bright, and Tom was clearly visible pacing the beach and picking up pieces of Dutch that floated to shore. It was a gruesome sight. He buried what he could and fussed over the grave as he'd fussed over his master. He slept next to the mound of sand. When morning came, Flame tried to get Tom to catch a fish for him, but he refused to leave Dutch's grave. Flame was forced to feed himself.

For the first time, Flame's attention wasn't on Hermione or on the campfire. He studied Snape. He paced in front of his tent, oblivious to his companion's suffering grief. Hermione grew increasingly nervous as the day came to a close. Ron gripped his spear. His stomach began to growl loudly.

"You should try to get a fish, Ron."

"I can't leave you two."

"Try their fishing spot. I don't think they'll bother you now," suggested Hermione.

Ron jogged to the larger pier. He could move much faster now that his splints were off. Flame watched him, but didn't stop him. Tom was utterly oblivious, and sat talking to the mound of sand. There were a great many more fish here, and they were much larger too. Ron quickly speared one. He looked back at Hermione and Snape. They were fine.

He saw a twig sticking out of the sand and nearly walked past it. Something odd about it made him stop and inspect it. It was the hilt of a wand. He bent down to pick it up, and it stung his fingers. "It must be Snape's wand," thought Ron. He tried again, and again it stung him. "Look, I'm trying to take you to him. Stop stinging me." He reached again and gingerly picked it up. "I can't believe I'm talking to a bloody wand."

Ron sprinted back and gave the fish to Hermione. He knelt next to Snape, "Professor?"

"Don't wake him, Ron."

"He'll want to be woken up for this." Snape's eyes opened slowly. He didn't speak. "I found something, Professor." Ron pressed the wand into Snape's hand. A jolt of warm pleasant-feeling energy shot through Snape's body. He grinned and closed his eyes again.

"He's too weak to use that," said Hermione.

"I don't think either of us can use it. The damn thing's as nasty as he is. It stung my fingers twice."

Darkness seemed to come more quickly than usual. Perhaps it was just nerves. Ron and Hermione dreaded evening. They knew, eventually, one morning would come and Snape would not rise with it, and they would be left alone again. The moon was as bright this evening as it had been last night. Ron and Hermione lay awake listening to Snape. His breaths were getting shallower. His fever was high, and he was shivering.

Tom appeared out of the darkness, leaned over Hermione, and punched Snape in the face. Snape began coughing again. Hermione tried to settle him. Ron dove at Tom, but Tom's greater bulk allowed him to deflect Ron's weight, and he remained standing. "Your dad killed my best friend! Now I'm gonna kill him!" Fists began flying between Ron and Tom. Hermione was grabbed from behind and pulled to her feet. Flame had his arms wrapped around her. He ran his tongue up her cheek. Snape rose unsteadily, and dropped his wand.

Flame threw Hermione down on her face. "I got a little business to take care of, darlin'. I'll get back to you in a minute." Flame whirled behind Snape and wrapped his arm around Snape's neck. Snape didn't resist. Flame brought his knife up to Snape's throat. "I am _really_ gonna enjoy this, Greasy. I'm gonna take my time with y…" Flame's face suddenly went slack. He staggered backwards and fell. Snape had cut his femoral artery, and Flame quickly bled out.

"I win," said Snape. He fell down to his knees and grabbed his wand.

Hermione had risen and picked up Ron's spear. She saw Flame fall and turned her attention to Tom, who was behind Ron with his forearm across Ron's neck. He was crushing Ron's throat. Hermione was trying to stab Tom with the spear, but he kept turning around, and Hermione almost hit Ron. She turned Tom a final time, which left him open to an attack from Snape.

"Stupefy," said Snape, his voice barely a whisper. A bolt of red light sent Tom to the ground unconscious.

Ron fell to his knees gagging and gasping for air. Hermione dropped the spear and ran to him.

"Ron, are you alright?"

Ron nodded and pointed for her to go to Snape. He'd grabbed his knife again and crawled over to Tom's body. Snape sliced a huge gash in Tom's leg.

"Professor, what are you doing?" cried Hermione.

"Weasley…put them…in the water."

"But, sir," croaked Ron. "Tom's not dead."

"He soon...will be."

Ron hesitated for a moment, then stood and took hold of Tom's feet.

"Don't, Ron!"

"He tried to kill me, Hermione. And he'd do worse to you if he got the chance." Ron dragged the men's bodies, one at a time, to the larger pier. He lifted them as high as he could and threw them into the water. He was covered in their blood when he returned.

Hermione had managed to move Snape back onto his bed. He was still coughing and gasping for air. She was gently patting his back in a futile effort to help him breathe. Ron stood there watching, feeling helpless.

"Hello?" called a woman's voice. Both Ron and Hermione looked in the voice's direction, but for some reason that they couldn't identify, they were afraid to answer. Two small white lights were moving toward them. The voice called again, and they realized who it was. Ron and Hermione set out at a run. Ron collided with Dumbledore and nearly bowled him over. He wrapped his arms tightly around Dumbledore's ribs; he was sobbing and trying to talk. Hermione embraced McGonagall and sobbed into her shoulder. McGonagall tried unsuccessfully to calm her.

Dumbledore patted Ron's back. "I need you to be quiet for a moment. I must ask you some questions. Nod your heads, do you understand?" Ron and Hermione nodded. "Have you found Severus?" They nodded again. "Good, good," said Dumbledore. "Where is he?" Ron pointed to their campsite. Hermione finally managed to speak between sobs.

"He's sick, very sick."

Dumbledore's expression became grave. He and McGonagall ran as fast as they could with their lighted wands held above their heads. Snape had ceased coughing when they arrived at the camp. He lay immobile and barely conscious. Dumbledore knelt at his side. He touched Snape's fevered forehead, and then his chest. He conjured an oxygen mask for him. "He's too weak to apperate, Minerva. You'll need to fetch the healers. Tell them Severus has a severe case of pneumonia."

"Very good, Albus," replied McGonagall. "You two come with me." She put out her arms for each of them to take hold, and disappeared with a pop.

"Stay with me, Severus," said Dumbledore as he patted Snape's hand. "The healers are coming." Snape's wand lay next to its owner; Dumbledore scooped it up for safekeeping. The hilt was sticky. Dumbledore inspected it. The sticky substance was blood. He moved the linen that covered Snape and checked him for wounds. There were none, but he did find a bloody knife.

The healers arrived and Dumbledore moved away to let them work. He saw blood in the sand, and a trail that led toward the shoreline. He heard thrashing in the water, some distance away. A tent stood in the near distance. Dumbledore approached it with caution. It was abandoned. He was puzzled. Severus isn't particularly social, but there's no way he'd stay in a camp by himself. It would be unwise to be alone, and Severus wasn't a foolish man. Two different campsites must mean two sets of people.

Dumbledore disapperated. He reappeared silently among the bustle of healers trying to get the Muggles back home without alarming them. Most of them had survived the shipwreck. The majority of casualties, of which there were few, had worked on the boat. Dumbledore found Ron and Hermione being embraced and smothered by Harry and Neville.

"I woke up here with a bandage on my head," said Harry. "I don't remember a thing after leaving my cabin with you. They found Neville clinging to a toilet seat."

"Do you have to keep saying it, Harry?"

"It's really funny, Neville," replied Harry. "You really should get your cuts looked at, Ron."

"I don't have any cuts."

"But you're covered in blood," said Neville.

"It's not mine," said Ron. "I mean…um…." He looked up and saw Dumbledore standing behind Harry. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as they held Ron's gaze. His lovely mint green and gold robes were smeared in blood because of Ron.

"Whose is it then?" asked Harry.

"Fishing can be a messy unpleasant business, can't it Ron?" said Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir," replied Ron, "very unpleasant."

Dumbledore smiled, patted Ron's shoulder, and walked away to see to Snape. The healers had him propped up in a bed. He was awake now, and still wearing the oxygen mask. A medi-witch was tending to his sunburns and infected insect bites.

"Professor McGonagall?" said Hermione.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is there a washroom around here? I stink horribly."

"There's one down this hall. And I assure you no one has noticed any odors, Miss Granger."

"I guess you'd like a hot shower too, Ron?" asked Neville.

"I smell food!" said Ron with growing excitement.

"Come on," said Harry. "There's a buffet in the other room."


End file.
